


hand in unlovable hand

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Age Play, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pedophilia, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Confidence had flooded in his veins as a kid, fueled by his naivety and innocence. He could put into phrases everything he wanted: asking for his brother’s attention was as natural as breathing. But now, the words looked to not know how to leave his mouth.
Relationships: Arthur Leclerc/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	hand in unlovable hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sp1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp1/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [sp1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp1/pseuds/sp1). Log in to view. 
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [sp1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp1/pseuds/sp1). Log in to view. 



> **please, read the tags and don't go on if you aren't comfortable with this kind of content. I'm saying this for you, take care of yourself.**
> 
> hi! first, ao3 doesn’t let me put directly that I was inspired by your entire _Dawn to dark_ series but let’s act like it doesn’t bother me as much as it does.  
> secondly, your fics gave me the strength to post my own, and I thought it was possibly a nice repayment to gift you a fic. it took me more than I’m comfortable admitting to write this and make it as close as possible as something worthy of the characters you created and the story you built. hope you like it at least a tenth of how much I love your writing, which is already a lot.

The golden light embracing Charles’s frame was the closest assumption of Heaven he could imagine witnessing. He was supposed to be surrounded by such richness, with shine coming out of himself and people flooding to him. Moths attracted by such a vibrant glow would have looked less eager. The need to be more immune than them was what was keeping Arthur away from him. He was disregarding every molecule of his body who urged for Charles’s closeness.

He had spent his entire life knowing to be Charles’s weakness, the only person he could never tell “no”. He had never taken into consideration becoming undesirable to him.

The way their eyes met wasn’t the same as years before. The innate shiver he could feel when they were close seemed to be disappeared from his brother. The delicate way Charles had to caress his skin appeared to have lost the power it once held for him. 

And now he could detect that same eagerness he had learned to recognize and please in the eyes of Charles when studying other children. Maybe, as terrible as it sounded for his hurt heart, Arthur was too close to adulthood, ever old for Charles at last, too old for his desire.

The idea had gained form in his head when his mother had decided to donate some of their aged clothing, asking for help to sort out what was still wearable. His eyes had fallen, sorting through the small clothes, on some underwear with a race car print and a pajama shirt with a faded stamp of a dinosaur.

The images had flooded to his brain in a confused style, surrender by an aura of mist. It was one of those memories you feel the need for physical proofs to be sure it had happened. And those were the only confirmations he had required for the plan to be created in his mind. If Charles had gone for him at that point, Arthur needed to make himself be that little boy anew. And then perhaps his brother would cherish him again.

The tight cotton against his skin was a reassuring hug, a grip of tenderness and protection. The exposed surface on his stomach and legs was a silent invitation for Charles to reclaim what was his. And Arthur had never felt more happily displayed. He was proud of being there to offer himself to the mercy of his brother, love the only thing he would have asked in return.

Arthur’s breathing was the only sound capable of grounding him in the silence of their house. If he hadn’t checked the apartment before, he wouldn’t even have been able to tell if Charles was in his room, such the stillness surrendering him.

His feet had grown stiff against the cold pavement, letting him remember the gentle memory of a younger age. He had taken the habit of running into Charles’s bedroom as soon as their parents were sleeping. He had felt chill too at the time; the heat anxiety brought to his skin as the only cover from the brisk temperature.

He remembered standing in that doorway, waiting for Charles to acknowledge him. He used to observe him in the sweet causality that comes with assuming to be on your own. His hair was messy, styled in the morning but consumed by the day. His hands, so pale against his dark phone, were hovering over the screen, while some headphones covered his ears. His focus was so occupied to make it even easier for Arthur to watch him a little longer before being spotted.

Confidence had flooded in his veins as a kid, fueled by his naivety and innocence. He could put into phrases everything he wanted: asking for his brother’s attention was as natural as breathing. But now, the words looked to not know how to leave his mouth. It seemed impossible to explain how he longed for the closeness of Charles without fearing rejection. If even looking, being the small boy Charles desired wasn’t suitable to make him love him again, Arthur wasn’t sure how he could keep going. How else was he supposed to recognize he was loved, good enough to be adored and cherished?

Whatever was the change that caused Charles to realize he wasn’t alone, Arthur wasn’t sure. But how Charles’s eyes moved to meet his send a shiver down his spine. The surprise was apparent, but it was the way he was looking him up and down that forced him to move closer.

“What are you doing?”

His voice was hoarse by the prolonged quietness. And Arthur found himself being disoriented for the first time since he had created the plan in his brain.

The soft tone Arthur’s voice took was far from what he used to talk. A higher pitch that reminded him of a stage in which his speech was yet to stabilize. The cracks were much more than Arthur would have liked when he yearned to grow up. It was at that moment that those mental processes stopped being understandable anymore.

“It’s getting dark outside, and I’m scared to be all on my own. I wanted to spend some time together.”

Charles’s scanning eyes weren’t leaving his body. Recognition of the clothes, his intention was readable in them, but Arthur was waiting for his direct acceptance of what he was trying to give him. They had grown apart, but nothing had ever made him feel as safe and cared for as being on his brother’s lap. Letting him bring that pleasure to them in the silence of the house while their family was sleeping a few meters away was what he would describe as love. It had been their little secret. And it still was the only secret Arthur had kept close to his soul, too complex to unpack to anyone else that wasn’t Charles himself.

Charles’s hand moved in slow-motion, showing him to get closer. Arthur could sense his heart looking for an escape out of his chest, but he put all his energy into accepting his role as the small boy he now craved to be again. The movement that let him fall in Charles’s lap, with his legs around each side of the other ones, brought him back to the first time he had ever touched him. His memories were confused, hazed, but the rush of happiness and closeness he had felt with his brother wasn’t comparable to anything else. They had been, from then on, bonded in a way that no one could destroy.

Charles’s fingers were tracing the soft skin of his tights and the small gasp he let out brought Arthur's concern to his eyes. Charles looked sad, unable to move his attention from the short clothes he was wearing. For a second, Arthur felt a sense of humiliation he had never allowed himself to experience. Maybe all his work was useless, even looking like a younger self wasn’t adequate for him. But the shame disappeared the moment he met his eyes. Love. That love he hadn’t known in years. The one that showed him how remarkable he was, important enough to make Charles crumble under him regardless of how hard he tried.

“I missed you so much, kiddo. I missed you more than you could guess.”

Their lips were now brushing, and Arthur was fast in letting out a pleading whisper, wanting that contact more than ever. That simple touch was already doing more for him than anything else he had experienced. When Charles’s hands started roaming down his body, playing with the hems of his clothes, he could only imagine the pleasure that would come.

“Please, Charles, let me feel all tingly again.”

The naturalness of Charles’s touch on his body could let him come with an inexplicable easiness. But it was his raspy, loving voice that pushed him over the edge. Hearing Charles talking about how much of an obedient child he was for him, how much he had grown while remaining his little boy, was enough for Arthur.

Recollecting himself against his chest, Arthur felt tears leaving his eyes and glide down his face. He couldn’t recall a better moment than this one, in his brother’s arms after Charles made him come. The same brother that had made him come since he was too young to remember.

This. This instant was the closest thing to joy Arthur had known in a long time. And maybe if happiness was only this, he wasn’t sure he deserved happiness at all.

**Author's Note:**

> well, I hope this was good. might have to admit that I didn’t expect to unpack so much personal trauma through this fic, but here we are. my therapist is going to have a fun time on Thursday. let me know what you thought.
> 
> the title is from _No Children_ by The Mountain Goats.


End file.
